


You'll be Safe with Me

by catsanddragons



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe, Consent Issues, Dark America (Hetalia), Invasion, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, american empire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:23:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5449862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsanddragons/pseuds/catsanddragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new empire is advancing further and further into Ivan's lands. And as he realizes that even General Winter cannot save him now, Ivan feels the yoke tighten around his neck once more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll be Safe with Me

**Author's Note:**

> An alternate universe fic, the nations are still nations of roughly the same countries with similar histories but only roughly the same. Don’t expect any plausible stuff here I’m just doing what ever makes the story work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An alternate universe fic, the nations are still nations of roughly the same countries with similar histories but only roughly the same. Don’t expect any plausible stuff here I’m just doing what ever makes the story work.

Russia was cold and his breath struggled to force its way down his throat as he dragged his bleeding body away. The cold wasn’t new and neither was the pain. But yank around his neck, closing off his airway till every gasp was a reminder of them of what was coming.

He thought he had left that terror behind centuries ago.

He thought he would be free forever when he had summoned up that frantic terrified power and pushed the Tartar off him for the last time and drove his pipe down on the bastards head.But now it was happening again.

He could feel it. The steady tightening of the cord around his throat as their armies marched farther and farther in.

Over his cities, his towns, through his armies, in a never ceasing assault until they took it all. Tore him away.

At the beginning, he had thought he would be able to survived, as he had survived before when the others had come.But even General Winter had not been enough to stop them.

Nothing could stop them.

There were just too many. So many that they didn’t feel like an army of men but like a great wave crashing over him. Just like when he had come before, with the thunder of hooves and the screams and the fire.

Consuming him whole.

This wasn’t just some raid. They were going to take it all. Take him. His Tsar hadn't realized it yet, he was still holed up in some castle in north, but the people knew, and so Ivan knew, they had lost.

His children were already turning against him as they had done so many times before. He could practically feel their hands on his coat, around his neck, yanking on the yoke, dragging him back, urging him to surrender himself to his new master.

NO, never again! I have lived for you, died for you but I wont, I won’t, not this never again.

He trudged away from the pull, deeper into the cold. No never again. I will give myself to General Winter before before (shoved down on his hand and knees, screams ringing in his ears and through his chest as he was thrown forward with the force of). His mind refused to finish the thought. He downed the last of the vodka before his feet refused to go any further and he collapsed into the snow.

It felt almost feel warm around him, welcoming him into sleep.

And finally he felt he could breath again the yoke fell away.

He was free. 

Crunch, crunch, "Oh there you are little dude!"

Arms wrap around him lift him up "God dam look at what you've done to yourself. I fucking told Matty we should have sent a team out for you with all the shit those nobles would have pumped into your head, well don't worry ill take care of you. Ill fix you."

/////////////

Alfred grinned, helplessly charmed, as he stared down at those purple eyes of his newest colony.

The boy was beautiful. His eyes were a deep purple like the fridge wastes of his most northern lands. His skin pale as snow and softer than a rabbits pelt.

There was a strength hiding under that scared skin. He could feel the vastness of the forests the thrum of oil ores and the people so many people. 

Yet he was so weak so malleable in Alfred’s hands like a child or a doll it was a oxymoron. But a welcomed one because a weak nation could be his.

To look after of course.


End file.
